Tag Archive: cats

In memory of “The Big Man” Clarence Anicholas Clemons Jr. (1942 – 2011)

Growin’ Up in Delhi town, far away from being Born in the USA,

your words rang true to me,

nothing more so than when you sang Cover Me,

as i ached for release from my urban Jungleland,

to the rock ‘n’ roll tunes of The E-Street Band.

You made me weep with your melancholic My Hometown, as i related so deeply to I’m goin’ Down,

cos’ when you sang, you sang from the depths of your Hungry Heart, all the way across the seas from Asbury Park.

Your lyrics sliced deep, scraping away the veneer of cellophane,

stuck inside the prison of my Downbound Train.

I remember the first girl i met, with Bobby Jean stuck in my lovestruck head,

and as we walked hand in hand through the city park, all i wanted was to be, with her, Dancing in the Dark.

I believed that we were Born to Run, far away from that Brilliant Disguise,

far beyond the Darkness on the edge of Town, escaping our fragile spaces, on our Rocky Ground.

When Little Steven sang Sun City, it gave me more of a Reason to Believe,

singing truth to power, raging against Apartheid’s vile hell, for all who from racial discrimination had no reprieve.

When you sang with Tracy Chapman, Peter Gabriel, and Sting, all of you on stage for the Amnesty international concert, you carefully picked your principled fights, as we all sang Bob Marley’s Get up, Stand up, Stand for your Rights.

As i grew up, on that forked Thunder Road, you reminded me of The Ballad of Tom Joad,

your lyrics cut straight to the bone, when you belted out your classic We take care of our Own.

You made me cry some more on the Streets of Philadelphia, while so many sweated it out in many a Darlington County, while the wealthy smiled and grabbed at this earth’s common bounty.

Oh how we joined you in the chorus, when you sang Woody’s angry This Land is your Land, while you paid homage to the countless immigrants in your visceral American Land.

I imbibed your words, feeling them course through my veins when i was bruised and tender, because you spoke to me of holding on tight to hope, to the words of No Surrender.

We are Alive spoke of the many who died trying to reach The Promised Land, to give it a shot, of Working on a Dream, while crossing The River would impossible seem.

Today, as so many are still sweating it out Working on the Highway,

you never fail to infuse hope,

the eternal hope,

of Waitin’ on a Sunny Day


us men


almost always,


Myopic, impotent men.

Our manliness oozing.

Our machismo seeping,



in swathes of red,

scarlet blood on innocent skin,



dried on cold, dead flesh.

Who am I?

A man,

myopic, impotent.

my swagger puffed on conceit:

my country right or wrong,

my god not yours,

my culture your creed,

my tribe, sect, ideology,

my fists your body,

my words your dignity,

my violence your scars.
Who am i?

A man?

knitted into,

shared humanity?

It is time,

to let this rotten, festering,

glossy, tucked, trimmed, diseased skin of manliness, of ugly power, of twisted arrogance,

to moult,

to lay stark this sham,

this theatre,

these lies, these maggots burrowing deep,

into man,

chiselling, smashing,

beheading, hanging,

shooting, bombing, drone-ing, killing, raping, torturing,

killing, killing, killing,

excising man,

ripping man out of humanity.

Oh yes, I am proud.

I am man …

deciphering silence

you and i,

shielded by silence,

barred from ourselves,

inured against feelings,

exiled hearts,

building ramparts …

a berlin wall

that may fall,

so, my love,

lay your head

upon my chest,

and let my fingers

run through your hair,

lulling you gently

to rest,

life is far too short anyway,

to squander even a day,

so rest,

my loveliness,


and lay your head

upon my chest …

Neither wealth nor trinkets of gold, she shunned the two.

“I am whole, because you touch my soul, when I am with you”.

That was when we knew, this journey of ours,

this love,

was true …

a quarter scribble

nothing leaves a heart reeling more than the heart filled with an abundance of feeling.

committing the crime,


every bend,

attemped rhyme

to inure time,


upon endless



to bury pain,

on cue

to mask loss,




on cue,




to paint on

the immigrant’s smile …

art by banksy 

My starved Eyes

my starved eyes, aching for a glimpse of your smile, ready to beguile, their thirst quenched, seeking simple joys, not million dollar toys, finally, coaxed the ocean of your eyes, to reveal the kernel of truth beneath the veneer of lies, so love me now, today, where fractured dreams are made whole by the sea spray, plunging deeper into the ocean shimmering in your eyes, hoping we may breathe, like the terror of time, high on up into blue skies, where love roams unshackled, in that ocean so deep …

in your beautiful eyes …

I’ve walked, and I’ve talked, I’ve averted my gaze, and I’ve gawked,

at the soulless passing parade, wrapped up in gaudy colours to hide the diseased charade.

I’ve watched and I’ve seen, I’ve lifted the rug to find the unseen,

the lost souls caught in the quagmire, the broken faces on display for hire.

I’ve broken bones, I’ve thrown stones, I’ve torn hearts asunder, muffled by the roaring thunder,

to shield myself from blame, I’ve been a hypocrite in their own game.

I’ve woken up gasping for air, I’ve pretended to not care,

about lives destroyed by war, choosing light banter, not wanting to sound like a bore.

I’ve kissed and I’ve been kissed, I’ve surfed the razors edge, gleeful of all I’ve risked,

the loves that came along I’ve cast away, without remorse cos’ I’ve always thought I’ve lived for the day.

I’ve squandered good folk, I’ve laughed at them as I’ve seen them choke,

shooing away the gentle and kind, tearing and swearing at the ties that bind.

I’ve wasted my breath on cigarettes and moonshine, I’ve shackled myself to apathy with knotted twine,

I’ve unashamedly looked the other way, I’ve given not a hoot about what people would say.

I’ve been kind only to me, pretending never to see,

the lives tattered by my oblivious deceit, the hearts shattered by my endless conceit.

I’ve always tried to shirk responsibility, I’ve always chosen to deny culpability,

of all the lives that I’ve broken, of all the lies that I’ve spoken.

I’ve lost myself to me, I’ve chosen exactly the person I’ve wanted to be,

the pernicious one who takes with glee, the crass man adrift on life’s sea.


the ways of fate,

the machinations of destiny.

Stranger still,

the paths

of life,




like hearts




as time

murmurs past,



some times,



fragile joy.

Some times,



Some times


into cold stone.

love, words, fists.

love is kind,

i have often been told,

but you flog me with your words,

you thrash me with your eyes,

you mangle me with you barbs,

as you do with your hands,

yes, love is kind,

thank you for loving me so.

why i love her

they said she was opinionated, they said that she was loud, they said she was arrogant, they said that she was too proud.

they said she was too feisty, less prone to being a ‘normal’ woman, to listen and to keep her views to herself, they said she was too independent, less ladylike, far too manly, for she always stood her ground, and it mattered not at times, for she shook them by not making a sound.

I loved her because she was opinionated, loud,

I loved her for being feisty, less prone to being a ‘normal’ woman, to speak her mind and to shout her views to the world, or to utter a sound, I loved her for her independence, for who she was.

she was fierce, not filled with crude machismo, strong and principled, not manly,

I loved her for all of that and so much more.

I saw her, a revelation in glorious technicolour, standing by the bus stop,

she smiled at me, wrenching my heart off my sleeve.

I see her still,

now in faded black and white,

wondering where she may be, after all these years, months, days, moments,

with time trickling through our lives,

knotting destiny into a silken weave,

time, ah time!

slipping away,

down fate’s random sieve.

Untainted Love


Half-remembered oaths, promises of love-forever-more,

churned out vows, confessions of a love-like-this never having been felt before,

Ceremonial tables, fine wine, gourmet food, spilling into overflowing goblets,

weighed down by silver cutlery, and fine bone-china platters,

the quest for perfection, mired in the bog of suburban I’ll-show-them-all infantile matters.


Not for me, this plastic, hollow charade,

not for me, this empty passing parade.

For me,

the fragrance of your hair, of your sensual body divine,

for me,

just you and I, together, your warm hand in mine,

for me, soaking in pristine nature, holding your hand in under a sashaying tree,

a simple yet truthful union of souls, of hearts, and of minds, of you, of me,

beyond crass materialism, needing only each other, enveloped in a cocoon of love,

feeling love’s soothing balm,

laying with your head on my chest,

beneath the canopy, of a lightly swaying palm.

(inspired by Don Mclean’s song “Castles in the Air“)

I looked down and saw her calloused hands.

We tried to make ends meet.

We worked hard and lived frugally, feeling ourselves mired in the bog,

barely having enough to eat.

“These days must pass”, we whispered to each other, after yet another gruelling day.

The pain gnawed silently, as we saw our dreams receding,

farther and farther away.

We clung onto hope, the promise of better tomorrows,

yet how true it is, that so many lives are lived grinding away for a pittance,

mired in tears, grief and far too many sorrows.

Her moist Eyes

her moist eyes met mine,

entangled like twisting twine,

we laughed off all the years that have past,

while smiling at those still to be passed …

rain sweeps away tears, dispelling hidden fears, across this bleak night, with hope just out of sight,

and yet my heart glows, enveloping me warm and tight,

bathed in the exuberant radiance of your soul’s gentle light …

I want to kiss You

I want to kiss you so much more,

where bigotry no longer stabs at the core.

I want us arm in arm on long walks,

where prejudice no longer these boulevards stalks.

I want you,

if you’ll have me,

we shall build our own world,

warm and loving and free.

when gloom sweeps down, sinking its talons into my skin,

it has always been you who guides me out of the fog, out of the doom, out of the bog.

it has always been you,

ever gentle,

ever loving,

ever true …

My Inner Fight

My Inner Fight …

(this poem was written by my niece)

My fight against self hate.

My fight against self love.

My fight against indifference.

My fight against being seen too much.

My fight against intolerance.

My fight against being too tolerant.

My fight against pretending.

My fight against being true to myself.

It is always a fight.

When will the fighting stop.

this poem was written by my niece

So, the frenzied hunt is on,
for that perfect gift,

that unique something,
for that special someone.

Heart-shaped chocolates,
diverse species of stuffed animals,

gold and silver anklets,
carefully trimmed bouquets,

painstakingly worded cards,

gift vouchers, moonlit dinners,

cruises, picnics, breakfasts in bed.

Gosh, I’ve got to run,

I’ve just thought of exactly,

exactly what my cat will love …

in memory of Scully (1999 – 2016)

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